


Critical Failure

by JauntyHako



Category: Fallout (Video Games)
Genre: Hancock taking in stray coursers, Inappropriate placement of blackberry jam, M/M, Post-Main Quest, X6 having the equivalent of the Microsoft word paperclip in his head, its about as fun an experience as you'd imagine, light spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 17:51:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5595361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JauntyHako/pseuds/JauntyHako
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Institute is gone and X6 is left in the rain. Beaten down and desperate for some respite from the Commonwealth he finds his way to Goodneighbor. And who is John Hancock to deny a synth, even if he is a courser, entry to his city?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Critical Failure

It had been three weeks since the destruction of the Institute and X6-88 accepted he needed help.

The courser chip in his head drove him crazy. He'd been in the field when it happened, searching for the traitorous Director not realising she was blowing his home up. The connection broke and white noise was replaced with an incessant beeping that went without without a detour over his ears directly into his brain.

_-Warning- -Critical failure: Institute communication disrupted. Please return for immediate recalibration- -Warning-_

The message repeated every three minutes, impossible to ignore as it was hardwired into his consciousness. But when he tried to go home, hoping against hope his chip malfunctioned, he couldn't hone in on the relay's position. He tried more than once, still occasionally reached out to find only white noise. There was no protocol for situations like these.   
In the case of an attack every Courser was to immediately return to the Institute to assist. But the attack was over. There was no longer an Institute to defend. So X6 did the only thing he knew and continued his mission.

 

Finding the Director was easier said than done. It wasn't that there was no trace of her. There were plenty of traces. Everywhere she went she seemed to have left an impression. But whatever lead X6 followed, she was gone long before he arrived. Without the constant connection to the Institute outfitting him with enhanced databases and the ability to travel long distances in a short time he was lost. It was only due to his training that he managed to survive at all with only minor damage.

But the warnings in his head grew in number. His skin was damaged where a raider with a flame thrower got him by surprise. The ensuing stress caused a panic reaction that prompted his system to urge him to return to the Institute for reconditioning. A day after that the nightmares started. X6 dreamed, of course, to allow his brain to recuperate, but his dreams were abstract and he rarely remembered them in the morning. These dreams woke him screaming and left him trembling in the chill night air long after they passed. In them he was always alone, a single organism in a place he never recognised and things moving just on the edge of vision. When he turned his head they were gone. X6 wandered, helplessly and desperately looking for someone wearing the familiar coats of the Insitute scientists. The creatures clawed at him the moment he turned his back. As the dream proceeded the creatures, some human-like in appearance some tentacled monsters, tore him limb from limb and left him to lie in a pool of his own blood. Just when they went in for the kill he woke, always, face wet with sweat or tears he couldn't tell.

It wasn't the first time in his life X6 suffered from nightmares. He'd had them before and it was his cue that he put of recalibration too long. Most Coursers dragged the procedure out as long as they could, the experience not being a pleasant one. Now X6 wished he could have one. He buried his head in his hands to keep out the first sunlight announcing dawn and the beginning of another day filled with a task he had no idea how to finish.

- _Warning- -Non-critical failure: Mental disposition unstable. Recommend immediate return to Institute for recalibration-_

_-Warning- -Non-critical failure: Physical condition at 67% effectiveness. Recommend return to Institute for repairs upon completion of mission-_

_-Warning- Critical failure: Institute communication …_

 

His search led him to a settlement founded by the Director in the ruins of Boston city. Hangman's alley was build high rather than wide, its buildings a maze of stairs and ladders supported by the old world architecture around them. From below it looked like a massive wall of wood and metal, unindicative of the life going on inside it. According to a trader X6 interrogated a few days earlier the Director was on her way here to set up a new crop watering system. Such an endeavour was likely to take time, giving X6 the first real chance since the Institute's destruction to catch up to the one responsible. He had no idea what to do should he actually find the Director. His orders had been to bring her back, alive and unharmed. Father placed his trust in X6 that he was up for the task but he had failed him. The shame he felt should not distract him from his mission, but as the voice in his head helpfully supplied, his mental disposition wasn't at its peak. It was the only reason he could think of later why he entered the settlement without prior reconnaissance.

The settlers attacked him on sight. As they saw the courser uniform and leveled their weapons at him, panic took over tactical assessment. X6 dove out of the way, cried out when a stray bullet dug into his flesh just below his shoulder. He stumbled, fell and crawled behind cover. He pressed the palm of his hand into the bullet wound to still the bleeding, vision swimming with the pain. His body reacted without his consent, kicked up adrenal production, urged him to fight or flee mindlessly. X6 tried to keep his breathing normal and the situation under control. Another bullet whizzed by him. When he ducked into cover he'd foolishly gone further into the settlement. Wooden walls kept him out of the sight of snipers in the higher levels but the exit wasn't visible either. He couldn't stay like this. Sooner or later these settlers would come looking for him. During a short break in fire he burst out of cover and set out in a run. He was unable to control his adrenaline output but right now his subconsciousness took over. He ran in a zig-zag pattern, found the exit and ran onward. His lungs burned, heart beating madly with the effort of his weakened body forced to go to its limits. He turned around corners at random, anything to bring as much distance between himself and the settlers. Only when the sounds of gunfire faded away in the distance did he allow himself to slow down and regroup.

Unwittingly he'd used one of the Director's preferred routes to Goodneighbor. When she still appeared to be siding with the Institute X6 accompanied her a lot on these trips. So often that the route was ingrained in his memory. Now that he lost all but the most basic control over his own hardware such memories made the decisions for him. In this case they might have saved his life. The bleeding in his shoulder had slowed but not stopped. It seeped through the fabric of his uniform, invisible on the black leather but uncomfortable nonetheless. He needed medical attention. In lieu of the Institute's advanced techniques one of the Commonwealth doctors had to do. The risk of getting shot at again stayed in the back of X6's mind, together with the steady warnings spouted by the chip. The voice drove him mad. Even the three minutes of silence in between were no longer a blessing. He found himself awaiting the shrill warnings drilling into his mind with trepidation. He had no idea when he last slept soundly. When the nightmares didn't make him fear sleep, it was the voice keeping him awake.

- _Warning- -Critical failure: Mental stability at 12.8% of ideal levels and declining. Immediate recalibration required. Return to the Institute at once-_

“I know.” he bit out, fully aware that he spoke out loud to a voice only he could hear. A voice that, incidentally wouldn't react whatever he did. It was a program, not a sentient being and yet it seemed to be taunting him.

_-Warning- -Non-critical failure: Sensory overload (pain, burning) covering lower torso anterior and right femur-_

_-Warning- -Non-critical failure: Sensory overload (pain, stinging) on left clavicle-_

_-Warning- -High levels of emotional stress detected. Responses inadequate. Report to Robotics for immediate repairs-_

“I can't. Stop telling me to go home. _I can't._ ”  
 _-Warning- -Critical failure: Institute communication disrupted. Return for immediate recalibration.-_

_-Warning- -Critical fail-_

“STOP IT!” X6 sank to his knees and pounded at his head. The voice kept talking, telling him to go home, listing how he had failed and how he kept failing. He couldn't go on like this. There had to be something he could do. Through the haze the pain brought X6 had an idea. Numbly he reached for his combat knife and brought it to the back of his neck. He blinked rapidly to keep conscious. His courser chip was somewhere close to his brain stem. It was useless, malfunctioning and only distracted him from what he had to do. It needed to go.

 

Hancock got to the perimeter guard just in time.

“Don't shoot, for crying out loud. All are welcome, if they don't make trouble.” he reminded his people who didn't look convinced but lowered their weapons.

“That's a courser. They're always trouble.” One of them said. Hancock swatted him over the head.

“Does this guy look like he's capable of stirring up trouble? Look at him. Better, get down there and help. I want him in the Old State Hous, got it?”

The man nodded and shouldered his weapon before he climbed over the barricade and set off towards the courser. He fell before Hancock's man reached him and didn't get up again. Two others were required to get the unconscious synth in a semi-upright position and drag him the last few steps into Goodneighbor and Hancock's own abode.

“You know that one?” Fahrenheit asked as they watched the men put the courser on a sofa.

“He used to run with Charlotte. Not so bad once you get to know him. Not that he lets anyone close enough for that. Still.”

Fahrenheit didn't say any more. Hancock had his own reasons for helping and she didn't pry. Instead she went off to take care of business while Hancock took care of their guest.

Once she was gone Hancock sat down by the sofa X6 lay on and popped some mentats, knocking them back with some whiskey.

“You look like shit.” he said. “I don't even know where to start with you.”

X6, still unconscious, didn't react, but Hancock didn't mind. He liked verbalising his thoughts while he set up a battle plan. And the courser's mangled body looked enough like a battle had taken place with, or on, it to require a plan. In the end Hancock started with the easiest stuff and slowly worked himself up. Technically there were enough doctors in Goodneighbor who were more than qualified to take care of his patient but Hancock liked to do things himself. Getting his hands dirty with a little synth blood was just one more thing that'd keep him grounded.

Humming to himself he rid X6 of his clothes, all of them because no one had anything to be self-conscious about in front of a ghoul and it made treating him easier. That was the reason Hancock gave himself. It didn't exactly hurt that X6 was easy on the eyes. A bullet lodged into his collarbone proved a challenge to remove. He had to physically brace himself against the sofa and hold X6 down with his knee to free the damn thing from the bone it was buried in. Through it all X6 stayed miraculously unconscious. He checked the rest of his body for shrapnel and cleaned what wounds there were before he administered a stimpak.

Skin knitted itself together before his eyes until the only trace of most of his injuries were faint scars. Even the weird one at the back of his neck, the source of which Hancock had no idea about. The massive burn mark stretching across his side was not so easily treated. Luckily taking care of regular burns was almost the same as taking care of radiation burns. And that he was good at.

Sometime between whipping up the concoction that'd speed up healing and lathing it generously over X6's body, the synth woke up.

X6 blinked against the bright overhead light, obivously disoriented. He looked at Hancock, then felt for the salve over his burned side, brow furrowed. Then he tried to get up.

“Hey, easy there. Relax.” Hancock said, pushing him back with gentle force. X6 went without protest. He made to say something but stopped in his tracks. With a blood-curdling scream he curled up, hands clutching his head. Hancock flinched but didn't stray from X6's side. He whimpered behind clenched teeth, shook his head as if to drive an insistent bug away.

He waited anxiously for the attack, or whatever it was, to subside and when it finally did handed X6 a glass of water.

“Migraines?” he asked, the only thing he could think of, while the synth swallowed the water in greedy gulps. Wordlessly he held it out to Hancock to refill and emptied the second helping just as quick as the first.

“Cut it out.” was what X6 eventually said. Hancock cocked his eyebrow.

“Excuse me?”

“The chip.” he elaborated wearily. “Its malfunctioning. I can't do it by myself. Help me.”

Hancock swallowed. He'd never heard the courser sound this helpless. He nodded and laid a hand on X6's arm.

“I know someone who can help. I'll get her, you stay here.”  
It wasn't as if there was anywhere for X6 to go in his current predicament, but even so Hancock hurried to get to the Memory Den and back, Dr Amari in tow.

The doctor was not pleased, to say the least.

“Someone's been tampering with this.” she said as she scanned X6's implant.

“I tried to remove it surgically.” he said. Hancock and Amari exchanged a look. She hadn't seen the gaping wound on his neck and Hancock was all the more glad that somehow he'd found his way to Goodneighbor.

“That attempt almost killed you. It is a small miracle that you didn't die. Are you sure you want it gone? The procedure is very ri-”

“Yes. Remove it.”

“I understand, but I need you to listen to me. There is a not small chance that you will wake up with severe brain damag-”

“I don't care. Cut it out.”

Amari looked at Hancock for permission. He shrugged and nodded. Whatever it was that made X6 despise the chip so much he wasn't going to stand in his way to get it out. Defeated Amari prepared the surgery while Hancock sat by X6's side.

“I'll stay close the entire time and when you wake up, I'll be here, buddy.”

He didn't know if his assurances did anything to calm X6's nerves. If he even had nerves in need of calming. His expression was empty of emotion, except the brief pauses when he doubled over, gritting his teeth in pain and suppressing screams. Shortly after that attack Amari injected some anesthetic into his veins. They watched him drift off to sleep, Hancock at the head of the operating table, Dr Amari over them and ready to make the first incision.

“Don't you have places to be, mayor?” she asked while she made her cuts. From the tone in her voice it was clear she subtly tried to get rid of him. Hancock grinned.

“Nah. Fahrenheit's taking care of the paperwork. I'm good.”

Shaking her head Dr Amari proceeded.

 

The first thing crawling through X6's perception into his muddled brain was the sensation of someone holding his hand. It was such a foreign experience it stood out from all the others. There was pain, a dull throbbing at the back of his head, his side burning, the muscles in his legs aching from exertion. Memory dripped back into the forefront of his mind. He tried reaching out for the Institute and felt nothing. Not even the white noise. Anxiously he awaited the dreaded voice but nothing came forward. One minute went past, then another. At the three minute mark X6 screwed his eyes shut harder than before. He heard nothing. Nothing except the slow dripping of brewing coffee and someone breathing close by him. Possibly the same person holding his hand. What a curious gesture. He knew, of course, of the significance it held among humans. But he didn't make a secret of being a synth. The person doing it had to know the sentiment was wasted on him. He opened his eyes and found a ghoul sitting in a chair by the bed he lay in, fast asleep and fingers intertwined with his. He knew this one but without the Institute databases at his disposal he had to rely on his fleeting organic memory for a name. Jefferson, Adams, Hamilton … Hancock. That was it. John Hancock, the dressed up parody of what counted for government in the Commonwealth. He was fast friends with the Director, probably helped her destroy the Institute. Yet here he was, wasting gentle actions on an until recently unconscious Institute courser. It might have been the residue of anesthetic but those actions didn't make any sense to X6.

Carefully he unwove his hand from Hancock's tight grip and got up. Dizziness overwhelmed him almost instantly. He staggered back, lost balance and would have fallen if not for someone grabbing him and holding him upright.

“Easy there, gorgeous.” Hancock said against his ear, voice ripe with amusement. “Take it slow.”  
Reluctantly X6 allowed Hancock to guide him back onto the bed. At least he didn't make him lie down. He sat up against the wall, legs still shaking.

“How're you feelin'?”

“Like crap.” X6 deadpanned. Hancock laughed.

“Yeah, okay. Hungry? Thirsty?”

X6 was both and rested his head against the wall while Hancock bustled off to make an impromptu meal. For the first time in weeks there was silence in his head and the location safe enough, for now, to allow X6 to gather his thoughts.

Things had gone to shit. That much was evident. It was clear that even if he found the Director he'd never be able to finish his mission. There was nowhere to deliver her to. It would be challenging to kill her and although X6 was convinced he could manage it, he discarded that idea quickly. He wanted her dead out of a desire to enact revenge for the destruction of his home. Revenge was an inefficient notion and he refused to give into those at the first opportunity. Eventually his Institute conditioning would break down completely, lying in shambles as it already was, but there was no need to help the process along. It left X6 in a aggravating position. He couldn't remember a single time in his life when he didn't have orders. There had always been a job or a mission or a directive. Now there was nothing. No safe base to fall back on, no one to tell him what to do. He was lost and that feeling was almost as unpleasant as the malfunctioning chip.

“Hey. Hey, you with me?”

X6's eyes snapped open. Hancock was there again, holding a plate with something unidentifiable but steaming in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He took both without comment. He'd eat first, then think about his nonexistent future.

“Thank you.” he said belatedly, remembering his manners. Hancock shrugged and waved his gratitude away.

“Forget about it. Charlotte would have my head if I left you to die out there.”

X6 tensed. Anger boiled his blood. He pushed it down, concentrated on neutrality rather than the urge to tear that woman's spine out of her body. That thought startled him. He didn't have a real desire to cause pain to the Director but the image was so clear and bright before his inner eye as if he'd already done it. Not even his own thoughts would obey him anymore. He longed for a recalibration, to be returned to normal and to stop feeling all this anguish.

There was nothing he could do about it, however, so he merely handed over his empty plate and glass back to Hancock and let him do the next step. Hancock didn't disappoint.  
“So, I've been thinking. Figured you don't really have a place to crash at the moment. There's always work in Goodneighbor, so if you want to make yourself useful, you're welcome to stay here.”

It was better than the alternative if for the sole reason that there was no alternative. So X6 agreed and tried to ignore the warm and fuzzy feeling Hancock's happy smile made him feel.

 

He hadn't lied about the work opportunities in Goodneighbor. It seemed at every corner people needed help that only X6 could provide. In the beginning it was his intimidating appearance they fell back on. He didn't have much in the need of financial compensation. In fact, Hancock had to put his foot down and insist that he be paid at all. For the first week during his recovery he substituted for Ham as the Bouncer at the Third Rail. No one started any trouble, be it by virtue of the people living here or on account of his presence. The days after that were spent helping Daisy and KL-E-0 with their wares, lifting things, carrying other things, glaring at customers who didn't feel like paying for things. When he wasn't out and about he was at the Old State House, assisting Fahrenheit to his best abilities. Through it all Hancock was never far away. It didn't strike X6 as conspicuous. The mayor was a man of the people and no one batted an eyelash at his presence. Everyone except Magnolia of course.

“He sure does like you, hun.” she said one day, overseeing X6 make some repairs to the sound system. The technology was ridiculously outdated and would benefit from a major overhaul. Or arson.   
“Who does, ma'am?”

“Our dear mayor, of course. Haven't seen him making eyes at anyone in a while. You're treating him right, don't you?”  
X6 pondered that question. Recently his programming had broken down even more, leaving only traces of the Institute's influence behind. Not for the first time he wished for its databases to help him decipher the whole range of subtext inherent in Magnolia's speech. There was something he didn't get but without more facts there was no way he'd figure it out. He opted for what he felt was a safe answer.

“I have the greatest respect for Mayor Hancock.” he said, which was true. Without orders he would have felt unbearably lost but Hancock was always there to point him to something else that needed to be done or distract him when he insisted on X6 resting. There was subtext in Hancock's behaviour as well, which he understood about as much as he grasped Magnolia's innuendo. It would have been so easy with the databases. Or at least reconditioning, which would take away the feeling of inadequacy everytime he sensed he'd been supposed to pick up on the subtext and hadn't.   
“I'm sure you do.” Magnolia purred. Their conversation was brought to a merciful end by Hancock's arrival.

“Working hard?” he asked and peeked over X6's shoulder to cast a look in the disarray of wires. His breath blew warm over a bare patch of X6's skin. He shuddered and pretended to be fully engrossed in his work.

“Almost finished, sir.” he said. Hancock asked him before not to call him sir, claiming it made him think inappropriate thoughts but X6 knew the man and knew that there was no way simply addressing him with respect would put his mind any more in the gutter than it already was. So he continued, finding solace in having a pretend authority figure in his life. As usual Hancock growled softly at the moniker but righted himself to chat a bit with Magnolia until he was finished. Shortly after X6 gave the system a last pat and a quick test, proud of work well done.

“Wanna get out of here and get some grub?”

X6 had worked up some hunger and didn't need much persuasion to agree to have dinner with Hancock. They made their way over to Daisy's to pick up the groceries. A chef was lost on neither of them but between Hancock's enthusiasm and X6's eye for detail they made do. Like most evenings they spent dinner mostly in silence, both too busy to fill their stomachs to talk.

It was companionable silence, though, one X6 increasingly came to enjoy. Back at the Institute having dinner was a hurried and usually solitary affair to be done in between missions and briefings. The whole concept of sitting down and having a meal, doing nothing else beside eating had been utterly foreign to X6. Hancock explained patiently that he wanted X6 to relax every now and then and that some company for meals was always appreciated, especially since Fahrenheit was usually busy with something else and took her meals the way X6 used to. And while he was still uncomfortable with resting, too much time to think and drown in misery, dinner with Hancock almost made up for it.

 

That night he had a vivid dream. He'd mostly gone back to having confusing abstract imaginations rather than the nightmares that kept him up on the road. This one though was different than either of those. It was no nightmare, despite the situation being strange and out of the ordinary for X6 it evoked no fear. It wasn't restricted to shapes and colours either. There _were_ colours and there also were a fair amount of shapes as well. But that was all X6 could say with certainty. Mostly he focused on musing about what his brain intended to process by dreaming about Hancock and himself naked and covered in jelly. X6 dipped his finger into the purple mass and licked it. Blackberry.

Hancock strode up to him in all his five foot four glory and before X6 could ask him what had happened to lead to this situation Hancock leaned forward and licked a broad swipe of jelly off X6's chest. He gasped, legs buckling but kept standing by the narrative imperative of his dream.

“Sir.” he implored, willing Hancock to understand what he couldn't put in words and step away while simultaneously never stopping ever. Hancock didn't speak but sucked hard on his nipple, clearing first the right and then the left one of jelly. X6 stood slack-jawed, eyes focused in the distance, the onlsaught of new sensations almost overwhelming him. Hancock's tongue dragged across his body, along his collar bone, teasing the scar where the bullet hit him, wandering up his neck and along his jar to his ear. He was sticky and the jelly must have done something to his temperature regulation because when Hancock nibbled at his earlobe and traced the shell with his finger hot flushes swept over his body. He held onto Hancock and pressed their bodies together, not caring about the sticky jelly. Like that he was close enough to see Hancock's pulse on his neck, and before he could think better he leaned down and licked off the jelly to get a better look. Sweetness filled his mouth, but what made him groan was Hancock's reaction, breathing hard and teeth dragging gently over his ear. He rested his hands on Hancock's hips, felt him rocking against him. He mirrored the motion even though he had no idea why he did what he did or to what end. All he knew was that it felt amazingly good and he wanted more of this, whatever it was. Hancock started rutting harder against him, arms around his shoulders and mouthing at his neck and shoulder, tongue darting out to scoop up some remains of jelly. X6's grip on his waist tightened, begging softly for Hancock to do more of what he was doing. Hancock obliged him, snuck a hand between them and touched him …

X6 startled awake, upright in his bed, drenched in sweat and pants clinging to his skin. A quick look confirmed his terrified suspicion. He'd ejaculated in his sleep because of a sexual dream. Disheartened he dropped the blanket and stared into the darkness of the room Hancock had generously given him. He should have known better but somewhere in him he'd hoped it wouldn't come to this. That his conditioning would hold up well enough to keep sexual desires from building. Only a broken synth could think itself worthy of interaction inherently meant for humans. The lack of maintenance and reconditioning finally hammered the last nail in X6's coffin. He drew his knees up to his chest, and slung his arms around them. The homesickness was so strong he wanted to cry.

He wished he'd been there when the Institute was attacked. He'd have died fully functional and doing his best to please his masters. Not like this, used for minor jobs most of these humans could have done themselves. Hancock wouldn't even let him leave the city alone, after he, reluctantly, told him about the many features he couldn't fall back on anymore. His training was the only thing he had left and that wasn't enough to make him useful to anyone. He was broken and there was no one left in the world to fix him.

 

Usually when Hancock woke in the morning X6 was already up and about, gone somewhere to help out in Goodneighbor. He'd taken to the role of resident handyman like a duck to water which was why it didn't surprise Hancock when he got up and X6 wasn't there. He got ready for the day, thinking about what he could do to keep him in the city longer now that he solved pretty much every problem Goodneighbor had. He'd asked about leaving increasingly lately and it worried Hancock that he might do so soon, all healed up and better prepared to face the outside world. That would not be in the interests of one John Hancock, seeing as he'd developed quite a crush on the synth. He used to be sweet on Nick when he was younger, ogling the Detective stride about the city when Hancock was still McDonough and barely into his teens. He wondered now if he had a type. But then again he'd thought X6 was hot even before Charlotte had introduced him as her synth companion, spotting her approach from afar with her latest addition to her strange social circle in tow and praying that this one wasn't completely averse to ghouls. A slim hope to begin with and in any case, Hancock never expected anything to come of his little infatuation. Having X6 around now was welcome but he didn't intend to seduce the poor man. Doing so after he lost everything from his home to his family would be taking advantage of him. But nothing stopped him from daydreaming a little in his free time, which was just what he did when Kent Connolly came storming in, out of breath and waving madly at the air.

“Geez, what happened? Something burning?”

“Irma … sent me. Your synth … has gone nuts. … He's threatening Dr Amari.”  
Hancock was halfway out the door already by the time Kent finished. He raced along the streets with as much dignity as he could muster, remembering that him in a panic over a synth would not help stopping the entire city from panicking over a synth. Kent trailed behind him, labouring for air and soon left behind. He just hoped he'd be there before the Neighborhood Watch, who would make short process of the situation, whatever it was.

 

“I won't brainwash you, X6-88.”

“It is not brainwashing. You will be fixing me.”  
“Your programming is flawless. There is nothing to fix.”

“You're wrong!”  
Hancock stopped in his tracks. X6 towered over Dr Amari, would be imposing if not for his body trembling like a leaf. From where he stood it looked as if he was one wrong word away from either breaking down crying or killing someone. Hancock wanted to prevent either outcome, if at all possible.

“What's going on here?” he asked as he bridged the distance between them and came to a halt next to X6, not intruding into his personal space but ready to hold him back should he get violent. It was Dr Amari who spoke, taxed with the stress and not letting X6 out of her sight.

“He wants me to reprogram him to more closely resemble the mindless drone they evidently made him at the Institute. I refused. Apologies for dragging you into this, mayor.”

“I am mindless now, don't you understand?” X6 said, an urgency in his voice that Hancock hadn't heard ever since he asked to have his courser chip removed. “A synth is not meant to process … certain influences. I need to be reconditioned.”

“I can see no limitations in either your hardware or software that would impact your ability to experience any influences, no matter their nature.”  
“The scientists at the Institute-” X6 began but was sharply interrupted.

“The Institute is known for it's inhumane attitude towards those they should nourish and protect. If I am correct about what has you so upset let me inform you that slavers never had qualms about desexualising the people they abused in order to strip them of their humanity.”  
“Desexualising?” Hancock echoed. No one listened to him.

“You are implying my place in the Institute is akin to that of a slave. This is not true. A machine can not be a slave anymore than your terminal is a slave.”  
“You are not a terminal. And I will not destroy a perfectly fine mind because of the brainwashings of a decadent society.”

Dr Amari glared at X6, daring him to say something. When he didn't, knowing a lost battle when he saw one, she nodded grimly and went off to pursue her work. Hancock watched her leave and then turned his attention towards X6. His hands were balled to fists to suppress the violent shaking. It appeared he didn't even notice Hancock was there. He didn't even acknowledge him when Hancock placed a hand on his shoulder and said: “Come on, buddy. Let's get you home.”

But he did follow Hancock back to the state house and let himself be led to an empty sofa, the others cluttered with chems and paperwork. Hancock searched for a mostly clean cup and filled it with whiskey, pushing it into X6's hand.

“Drink.” he said. X6 followed the order and drank until the mug was empty. Hancock filled it again and X6 drank again, slower this time.

“Wanna tell me what that was all about?” he asked as kindly as he could. He realised it would take more than a few cups of whiskey to get X6 drunk, being a synth came with some side-effects, but he hoped the alcohol would loosen his tongue enough to at least get the emotional shit off his chest before it suffocated him.

X6 didn't speak for a long time. He sipped his whiskey as ordered but otherwise made no indication that he was even conscious of his surroundings. Hancock sat beside him, content to wait until he'd speak of his own accord. He refilled the cup everytime it was empty and took the occasionally swig straight of the bottle himself. This mess was not so easily fixed.

When X6 did speak up his words caused Hancock to choke.  
“Do you believe a synth capable of having sex?”

The ensuing sharp inhale caused whiskey to run down his air pipe. He coughed and pounded his chest, battling the immediate sensation of suffocation and the less immediate sense that the world had turned upside down sometime in the last minute.

“What?” he asked when all his pipes and ducts were sorted out again and supplied with the right substances.

X6 looked at him.

“Sir, is it concurrent with your opinions that a synth like me can perform sexual intercourse the same way a human does?”

“Uhh …” was the helpful answer. It didn't seem to matter much what he said, however. The question seemed to have been a way for X6 to launch into this conversation. Which, admittedly, had taken off in a direction Hancock didn't expect.

“I was manufactured with human genetic base code. My body is indistinguishable from a human, except for the single component of synthetic nature embedded in every synth's brain that provides them with a constant connection to the Institute. Did provide them. I am capable of every anatomical function. I can achieve an erection and even though I am infertile, my seminal fluid can only be determined as synthetic under the microscope. My skin is sensitive enough to allow for a physically induced orgasm.”

It occurred to Hancock to say something, at least to show that he was listening, but all he could think was: _He's talking about sex. He's talking about fucking in the least sexy way anyone ever talked about it._ And then, because introspection at this point was much needed but rarely executed: _Why am I turned on by this?_

Before he could deal with this development, X6 continued: “The Institute taught that possessing the physical ability to have sex doesn't mean a synth is equipped to deal with the spectrum of emotional influences accompanying it. Sensory overload from physical stimulation is something inherently different than an orgasm achieved by sexual intercourse between two humans. A synth can not experience pleasure from sex. But last night I did. I am clearly malfunctioning. And yet Dr Amari refuses to repair me. I don't understand.”

X6 stroke up eye contact with Hancock for the first time today. He pleaded for an answer, for Hancock to say something that made things right again.

“Look, there's …” he said and trailed off. This wasn't right. He would tell X6 the same thing Dr Amari said already and that hadn't worked. Before he spoke up Hancock got up and swung his leg over X6's lap and settled down.

“S-sir?”

“Damn, you know how hot it is when you call me that? Nevermind.” he quickly added when X6 opened his mouth, undoubtedly to explain just how far his knowledge in this subject reached. He shut up well enough when Hancock cradled his face in his hands.

“You don't need to be fixed.” he said slowly and deliberately, making sure X6 got every single syllable of that statement.

“Sir, I _am_ broken. I'm not efficient, you don't even think me capable of completing assignments outside the city.”

“You think that's what that rule is about? It's not because I don't think you're up to it. It's because I like having you close.”  
“But …”

X6 lowered his gaze although Hancock did notice he leaned into his touch the tiniest bit.

“Listen to me. You're not broken. And, for that matter, I _do_ think synths can have sex the same way everyone else does. The Institute's been bullshitting you.”  
“Why would they do that? They could have ordered me not to pursue these thoughts.”

That would have been an order impossible to follow, judging from the way X6 shuddered when Hancock brushed his thumb over his cheekbone. His skin was soft, the man pliant under his touch.

“Because if they did, they'd have to accept that you synths are people with feelings and wishes and fears and all that shit. If you want to think of yourself as a good person you can't enslave another one. So they stopped thinking of you as people. But you are. You're a person, no matter where you came from. You can have orgasms as much as you want. The only question is if you want to have orgasms. And with whom.” Hancock said, adding the last part sheepishly. It was utterly deplorable of him to hope to gain something out of this mess but that would likely be the last time the topic of orgasms came up between them. X6 appeared to think his words over. He was almost certain the synth didn't think about what he did when he cradled one of Hancock's hands, still on his cheek, and traced light patterns over his ruined skin. It was a simple gesture and one that gave Hancock hope. Even if nothing came of it, which was still likely despite the fact that X6 allowed him this close, he was content with that one moment. If anything, he helped a friend work through some issues. That was a good thing to achieve, no matter the circumstances.

“I trust your judgment, sir.” X6 finally said. As always, being addressed like that sent shivers down Hancock's spine. He nodded and waited for him to continue. “If you are convinced I'm not malfunctioning I will attempt to live with this … development to the best of my ability. But I don't know who I would approach for this kind of thing, considering what I am. I admire your ability to see past my make, but others will not be so forgiving.”

“Well, Mel's nice.” Hancock said forcing himself to sound casual. “And, well there's Irma, if you're not into dudes. She's the adventurous kind. Maybe a bit much for your first time, but she'd give it a go if you asked.”

“I hardly know them.” X6 said.

“True. You know Daisy. She's a real sweet girl. Not the youngest, but when has that ever stopped anybody.”

“The sensory overload, both physical and emotional, resulting from an orgasm would leave me vulnerable and likely overwhelmed. It would need to be with someone I can trust implictly.”

“Oh. Okay. There's, uh, there's always Charlotte.” Hancock said. He tried not bringing her into this, mostly because he feared it was her who'd X6 would want. He used to admire her before she sided against the Institute. It wasn't too far of a stretch to assume he might be attracted to her.

“I don't want to have an orgasm with her.” X6 said solemnly and with just a little bit hesitation. He and Hancock sat and stared at each other, both being fairly but not absolutely certain they knew the other felt the same way. Neither dared to make the first step, but eventually Hancock pulled himself together.   
“Would you like to have an orgasm with me?” he asked, the frame of the question making it easier to speak. It wasn't how he usually asked for sex and that helped. As did X6's reaction, blushing and the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.

“Yes, sir. I believe I would like that.”

Hancock shifted in his lap, sudden excitement replacing the tension.

“Oh. Oh man. Right now?”

“We have already established physical contact. We might as well-mmph.”

Hancock didn't wait for X6 to finish his sentence. He dove in for a kiss, desperate to taste X6 after fantasising about it for the better part of two months. X6 responded with enthusiasm that mostly made up for his inexperience. Where it didn't Hancock guided him, showing him when to be gentle and when to be rough as he let his hands rove over his body, shivering almost as much as X6 did for getting to touch him finally. Having done it once before it was an easy task ridding X6 of his courser uniform, leaving him in only his underwear, arching up against Hancock who kissed and touched every inch of bare skin he could reach. X6 was responsive, gasping and softly sighing for Hancock who wanted to bottle every one of those sounds and store them for rainy days. His shoulders were narrower than Hancock remembered, but then again in his fantasies X6 had always been aggressive, dominant, throwing him against the wall and taking him dry, showing him in great detail what the Institute thought of ghouls. And that was the least ridiculous of the scenarios he used to cook up in his head. He'd have to ask X6 sometime if roleplay was in the cards. Although he'd keep the one about synth cum turning out to be a fantastic vaccination for going feral if ingested to himself. Although speaking of synth cum, Hancock grew curious. X6 had said there was no tangible difference between a human's seed and a synth's. He was eager to conduct some experimentation to prove that thesis.

He dropped out of his lap and onto his knees between X6's legs, kissing his thighs and smiling when it rewarded him with a surprised moan. His skin was flawless and Hancock wasted no time marking it with his teeth. Rough and quick got the best responses. X6 made the most delicious noises when Hancock bit sharply down on his inner thigh, hands erratically seeking a place to rest and finding Hancock's shoulder. He dug his fingers into his shoulderblades, hips moving against Hancock. He didn't speak, but it was obvious what he wanted.

“Damn you're gorgeous.” Hancock murmured, speaking against this skin, knowing X6 would be able to feel his lips moving. Before X6 could argue, which he was clearly about to do, probably having something lying on his tongue about not being designed to be physically appealing, Hancock pulled down his briefs and freed his erection. He thought he'd have to work him up, hurried as they made out, but he was already flush and hard. Hancock didn't waste any time, the long drawn out sessions could come later, and took his cock in his mouth as deep as he could. X6 cried out, hips bucking up. When Hancock looked up he saw X6 biting down on the back of his hand to keep quiet. He guided his free hand to the back of his head and made a pleased sound when he started to lightly scratch over his scalp. He swirled his tongue around the head and sucked, painfully hard over all the sounds X6 didn't seem able to keep from making. Hancock was used to sex lasting hours, full of foreplay and pauses in between, slowly working up to the finish. It shouldn't have surprised him that X6 came close to the edge fast, chanting under his breath something that might have been his name, might have been a prayer. Hancock smiled and rolled with it, sucked X6 off hard and fast, bobbed his head in a steady rhythm and jerked with his hand what he couldn't swallow.

“Sir, oh … Sir, I'm …”

That was all the warning he got before X6 came shouting. He swallowed his cum and sucked him through the orgasm, stopping only when he began twitching and trying to pull away from the overstimulation. He leaned back to admire the view, X6 panting hard, a sheen of sweat making his skin positively glow, his eyes open and staring at the ceiling as if he just experienced rapture. Hancock gently massaged his quivering thighs and waited patiently for him to come down from his high. When their eyes met he couldn't help but grin at the deep blush spread over X6's cheeks.

“Wanna do that again?”

All X6 could do was nod.

 

 


End file.
